


Persuasion

by Mab (Mab_Browne)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Challenge: Sentinel Thursday, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 10:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6653398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mab_Browne/pseuds/Mab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a hell of a day, Jim will be okay and he just wants to go home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Persuasion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LJ comm Sentinel Thursday, to the prompt 'prince'.

The nurse waved him through. She wore a reassuring smile that wasn’t needed because Blair had already been told that it was a shallow cut along most of its length. It looked a mess, it had bled a lot, it would leave an interesting scar down Jim’s thigh – but it wasn’t deeply damaging. There were no nerves damaged, no tendons or ligaments cut, and Jim would be okay. He’d come home with Blair some time tomorrow and sit in the lamp-lit evening of their home and probably complain about the lack of beer. Heavy-duty painkillers, or dialing down? Neither of them worked well in combination with alcohol, and Blair would be stern the way only someone who’d been scared to death could be. 

Jim had bitched about Blair using puppy-dog eyes on him more than once, but Blair wasn’t having any of that crap. Jim could bat his baby-blues with the best of them when he wanted something, but if he thought it was going to work this time – well, Blair Sandburg had news for him. He could look at Blair with that quizzical, winsome look just as much as he pleased, and Blair would be stone, obdurate and unyielding.

Blair’s obduracy was left untested for the moment, because Jim had fallen asleep somewhere along the transfer from the main ER to Observation. Even in the slack lines of sleep, he looked exhausted, cradled in the hospital bed with one hand out of the blankets, his palm open to the ceiling tile and Blair’s hungry gaze. Blair’s breath stuttered, a tiny a-a-ah inhalation, like a child finally relaxing its throat and chest after a crying jag. Blair hadn’t cried. He’d been remarkably calm, all things considered. Stoic even. He grasped his hand around Jim’s, and leaned down, not caring if anyone came in and saw them, and kissed Jim neatly and drily on his mouth.

Jim’s eyes opened. “Hey there, Prince Charming.” His voice slurred on the words. He’d be tired, because it had been a hell of a day.

Blair spluttered with a choked-back laugh. “Hey, tough guy, if I’m Prince Charming, then what does that make you?”

“Alive and awake, and I can be happy with that,” Jim said, and there, right there, were those eyes. “I’d be even happier if I was sleeping in my own bed.”

“Oh no, no, no. You’re supposed to be spending a night under observation.”

“Why?” Jim’s hand pressed, warm and steady, into Blair’s. “I officially don’t have a concussion, and if the doc’s done his job properly my stitches aren’t going to stay together any better tomorrow than they are today.”

“The official not-concussion was a near-run thing, and your leg could do with a night’s rest before you put any weight on it. I’ll have to convince someone to find you a cane, and at this time of night!”

“I have faith in your cane wrangling abilities, and I want to go home.”

“I’ll stay here with you."

“Blair, please.”

Blair withdrew his hand from Jim’s clasp, the better to wave it in the air with its fellow where it could work off a little frustration.

“Okay. Okay. But damn it, Jim, if you ask me for a beer when we get home, I will smack you, swear to god.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jim said, with grave obedience.

Who did he think he was kidding? Not Blair, that was for sure.


End file.
